


RumRollins Week 2019

by kalika_999, winter_angst



Series: Jack and Brock's misadventures [94]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, HYDRA Husbands, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:48:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21565687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/pseuds/kalika_999, https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_angst/pseuds/winter_angst
Summary: Just entries posted by myself or with Hydra_Trash_Gal for RumRollins week! :) https://rumrollinsweek.tumblr.com/
Relationships: Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow
Series: Jack and Brock's misadventures [94]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/547894
Comments: 15
Kudos: 35





	1. S.H.I.E.L.D.

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [you make me smile](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21565345) by [Kalika999 (kalika_999)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/pseuds/Kalika999), [winter_angst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_angst/pseuds/winter_angst). 
  * Inspired by [(i’ll be the one to) Build You Up](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21599710) by [Kalika999 (kalika_999)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/pseuds/Kalika999), [winter_angst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_angst/pseuds/winter_angst). 
  * Inspired by [blood on his skin dripping with sin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21610315) by [Kalika999 (kalika_999)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalika_999/pseuds/Kalika999), [winter_angst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_angst/pseuds/winter_angst). 

> Just entries posted by myself or with Hydra_Trash_Gal for RumRollins week! :) https://rumrollinsweek.tumblr.com/

  



	2. Hydra

  



	3. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for barebacking, anal sex, referenced abuse, blow jobs, fingering, felching

There’s a thing that always happens whenever missions go ass up, it comes with the territory, of course it does. But Jack still feels his heart constrict in a painful, substantial way. By now he’s usually used to it, processes it in a way that he easily compartmentalizes the circumstances before moving on. There’s always a way out of it,  _ always _ . No matter what anyone says, and he just has to enact it.

It’s different though this time around. It’s so far out of his control and it leaves him unsettled and his nerves are spread much too thin.

It’s the first time in a long time something’s gone wrong at this magnitude, a  _ mission’s _ gone wrong, since they’ve figured their shit out. They’re at a point between them where Brock’s finally come clean to him fully and completely, said what he really means to him and quits beating around the bush about their on and off shit to make it officially on.

On a professional scale of how badly they can fuck things up, it wasn’t even anything too bad, but it still happened. If things didn’t unfold the way it did, if Jack had missed by a few millimetres..he would have lost Brock. As he examined him afterward, only a couple of bruises on his arm and scratches against his forehead, he still couldn’t see past all the factors that had played against his favor and the threat that one day he may not be so lucky.

_ M’fine, Jackie.  _ It’s all he gets, that and a horrible replay of Brock dying, over and over again and the helplessness he’d feel if it were to ever happen out on a mission.

With all that, his heart still feels like it’s lodged in his throat, hours later back in his apartment. 

It feels like he’s high off the adrenaline refusing to leave his veins and all his senses are heightened and all too sharp. He’s sure somewhere in there he needs to sleep, that he’s been teetering on being stuck in some level of exhaustion even he doesn’t realize, but the clue in still had yet to come.

The only reason must be because of Brock, spread out underneath him, skin glistening with a sheen of sweat and every inch of his body a perfect golden tan against the contrast of dark sheets. He doesn’t look at him right then, head thrown back and neck exposing a few too many bruises that Brock will give him shit for them later, but right now he doesn’t care and it’s all that matters for the moment. 

He leaned in, pressing a trail of kisses down his throat like a million silent promises and Brock only tilts his head further back, Jack takes it as permission to suck another mark to his skin, his teeth aggravating it to a darker flush.

He can’t shake the images flashing across his mind, of what could have happened if Jack hadn’t been there to watch Brock’s back. Over and over again he sees him with a bullethole through his skull and his eyes staring lifelessly up at him, his chest always tightens from it. Even with how brave, or how reckless Brock tended to be, Jack wasn’t ready for the harsh reality of possibly losing.

He’s not at all prepared to see Brock die; not today, certainly not tomorrow, he can’t ever let it happen and there’s no way he’d be able to deal with it if it ever came to happen. He has no control over outcomes, and neither of them are immortal. One day they’ll die, either him before Brock or Brock before him, it’s just an inevitable fact.

The thought makes him thrust a little harder in, causes Jack’s head to duck away and go in  _ deeper _ . He knows in his swirl of thoughts he’s not the only one that’s felt like they’ve been dunked into frigid waters, and in an oddly weird way, there's solace to that.

Brock’s still shaking, it’s not visually obvious but he can feel it now, all the way through him and in how he clings onto Jack’s back and at his shoulders hard enough that it hurts. The clench of his body goes all the way down around Jack’s cock as he fucks into him, and absent words in Italian fall past reddened lips as he seems to want to forget what all that unfolded.

_ “Please.” _

Jack’s unsure of exactly what it’s for, but his lost slur of words barely has English in it and he can’t help be entranced by it. 

Another thrust and Brock makes a noise, like a pathetic whine, and Jack ignored an urge to press a hand over his mouth. He doesn’t want to hear that right now, have it distract him from his feelings and how concerned he was for him. When Brock sounds like that, it’s like he’s broken and given up and so very vulnerable. It’s so much that it makes Jack feel lost, like he’d been dropped into the middle of the pacific and left to deal with it on his own.

“I’ve got you, you know I always do.” He murmurs low, lips pressing a kiss to Brock’s temple, and he knows it’s what Brock wants to hear because he watches him close his eyes and tighten around him in every way possible. Knees squeeze harder at Jack’s ribs, heels digging along the bed and eagerly attempting to match his every thrust. 

“I promise, Brock.  _ I promise _ . Gonna always keep you safe, keep my eye on you.” 

There’s words, all in Italian, he’s somewhere Jack can’t go and then he hears it, almost doesn’t in the ongoing slew of moans and heavy breathing.

_ “Love you.” _

Jack’s rhythm goes erratic and he sharply jerks forward so hard Brock stiffens and makes a wounded noise.

And maybe he’s not as surprised as he feels he is right then, but  _ he is _ , especially with Brock when he’s never really wanted to talk about their relationship on _ that  _ level. It’s something they should be looking seriously at because Jack knows, he can’t avoid it anymore, just how deeply in love he is with his Commander despite telling himself that maybe it was a big mistake in their line of work. . 

“Tell me again, Brock.  _ Now _ .” He demands instead, arms tightening around Brock as hips arch up to the order, his mind plays back the way he sounds like it’s some level of a threat, that he’ll pay if he doesn’t despite not understanding how it could be relayed as one; Brock tightens around his cock either way and the squeeze makes Jack’s vision blur. 

Brock’s eyelids flutter and he looks dazed, he’s slightly aware of what he just said if the look of vague embarrassment is anything to go by but doesn’t stop what they’re doing. 

“Jack, c’mon.  _ Please _ .” He begs, so open and vulnerable like this, and Jack will never tire of hearing Brock whine for it. “God, I need ya to fuckin’ love me, I can’t- I jus  _ can’t _ ..”

Jack groans, rearing back on his knees. Brock follows it with a whine of protest and makes his little noises, trying to hold Jack close. But he needs the distance right now, so that he can grab Brock’s hips properly, so he can _ fuck him  _ properly, give him what he’s asking for and promise him the  _ world _ . 

“Easy,  _ easy _ . I’ve got you, baby.” He promises and suddenly Brock’s eyes widen, mouth falling slack when he slides right back into him and those needy sounds are being fucked out of his throat as Jack drives him higher up the bed. “Never letting you out of my sight ever again.”

He stares at the angry red flush of Brock’s cock when he’s wrapping fingers around it, he hopes Brock’s mimicking the tightness that Jack feels around his own and savors the heat of, but his orgasm still takes him by surprise, it’s triggered when Brock makes that first sound of relief to finally touch himself. It’s like it’s _ pulled  _ out of him, violent and rough, leaves him unsteady and gasping, and Brock surges up to kiss him desperately, swallows down every noise between them like he needs them all to breathe.

Jack’s quick to press him down again as soon as his senses come back and he doesn’t feel like he’s sinking in a pool of quicksand. His vision is still shaky and so is his body, shuddering hard when his dick slides free of Brock’s ass.

Brock’s staring up at him, hand still wrapped around himself, but not moving.  _ No part of him is _ , like he’s holding his breath. Like he’s waiting for Jack to get mad at him, or reveal that it’s the end of their night together as punishment for acting too reckless. Brock still refuses to tell him the whole story, doesn’t want to get into it but knows there’s layers of fucked up in there that Jack refuses to consider too deeply while they’re together like this. 

Eventually they will talk about it, but not tonight. Even after cumming, Jack’s not in the right state of mind to discuss serious things important to their relationship anyway, not when there’s still a prickling heat crawling along spine, he’s content not to think, to let the resonating sound of Brock’s voice push him to keep going.

He smacks Brock’s hand away from his cock, smooths them along tanned skin like he still can’t believe he’s there with him. 

“Tell me again.” He urges, almost begs. He feels a little like he’s losing his mind, something within his mind scrabbling to keep hold to logic. The words though, they have so much power, to the point that even his dick is led by them, twitching weakly just at the mere thought of hearing them once again. 

Brock’s breathing again, panting for him, pupils so dilated there’s barely any of that tint of gold and brown at all. He’s licking his lips, arms reaching up over his head to grip the headboard like the obedient lover he can be, though only when he wants something, and as far as Jack knows- only since it’s been them together. Brock spreads his legs a little wider, lets one knee bend and shows Jack everything he wants to see. It’s a little obscene when he sees the way his cum is sliding down the crease of Brock’s ass and staining the sheets beneath him.

“Love ya, Jackie. M’all yers.” Brock whispers, looking a little awed like even he’s surprised with himself. He probably is.

Jack groans as he crawls in to make up the space before he ducks his head and swallows down his aching cock. He doesn’t miss the way Brock sobs to it, so vulnerable and needy and in such a way that causes Jack to fall deeper in love with him. 

While he already wants to fuck him a second time before Brock’s even had the chance to cum the first time, his refractory period isn’t what it used to be and he knows it’ll be a small bit of time before he’s ready to go again. So he doesn’t try to even make an attempt. His fingers manage to be a tolerable replacement for the moment and they fuck into Brock senseless. 

He loves the feel of Brock struggling under him, scratching at his shoulders and bucking into his mouth as he assaults his prostate without an ounce of sympathy and it doesn’t take Brock much to cum that way, looking defenseless and fucked out afterwards trying to catch his breath, hair a mess with bite marks prominently on display for Jack to admire proudly. They’re all completely worth it no matter what’s said later.

He coaxes Brock to roll over, hands kneading at the meat of his ass before he spreads him wide. 

Brock is completely pliant and loose, just how Jack prefers him after being so stern and disciplined (mostly) out with the team and on the field. His skin’s shiny from Jack’s cum and the remnants of their lube. Jack spreads him even wider, enough that he knows it’s got to be aching a little, but Brock just moans for it and pushes back in silent request, arms shaking as he struggles not to collapse forward against the mattress.

Jack’s thumb slides through the mess between Brock’s cheeks, pulls down a bit at the edge of his rim as his heart threatens to burst and Brock whines and trembles. A thick dollop of cum dribbles out of him, rolling down the crease of his ass so achingly slow, Jack can’t help but watch, completely fascinated by it. 

He’s not thinking when he leans in towards it, licking up the line to Brock’s hole and pressing his mouth over it, sucking the mess he’s left behind and wanting more of that taste. Brock only whines, sensitive but wanting more as he repeats his name over and over in senseless babble against the sheets. He’s sure if he goes at it long enough, there’ll be tears in Brock's eyes and clinging to his beautiful lashes like a fine piece of art needing to be hung against his wall. 

His tongue probes into him deeper and he gets a choked moan out of it, Jack wants to give him all of this, push him into a state where he’s gone mindless and drooling against the mattress. Wants him in a place where he has nothing to think about but sleep and to recover from their clash with reality, while Jack can keep him grounded and hold him close, safe from all the madness they’re surrounded with. 

He grips at handfuls of Brock’s ass to the point it possibly hurts while fucking him with his tongue, hums as Brock makes pitiful sounds to the overstimulation. 

It’s something that they need, a way to drag out the release of energy and emotions so tomorrow they both wake up rested and ready for whatever's in store for next time. They’ll manage together, as they usually do and it’s how they work. Jack can’t think of anything better than that.

It’s always when they’re like this; or how they’ll be in the morning when there’s a beam of sunlight draping along Brock’s skin in just the right way, when Jack will pull him in for a kiss after he lets his fingers trace over muscle and bone. Whichever moment strikes his mood whenever he gets like this, both ways tell him he’s home and from the way Brock clings to him at every chance they get after a mission, he seems to know this as well.

  
  



	4. Hobby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love you 3000 too, nerd lol

  



	5. Winter Fun

  



	6. Summer Fun

_Summer’s started and all Brock plans to do is work out, fix up his tan and hang out by the pool getting drunk. What he doesn’t expect is to be mistaken for an escort and get offered to be arm candy at a charity black tie event for some lonely but hot looking CEO he meets at the tiki bar. Considering the payout, he accepts, it’s just one night no big deal. What he doesn’t count on is falling in love, or it becoming mutual. It turns out to be a summer neither of them will ever forget._


	7. Free day!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hockey AU, Phone sex
> 
> The Gordie/Gordie Howe/Gordie Howe hat trick is an NHL achievement of a goal, an assist for a goal, and participation in a fight, all within a single game. It's obviously named after a famous hockey player. :3

The day Jack gets traded for two fresh-faced rookies, Brock feels like it's the end of the world. It takes a long time for him to recover and while he doesn't show his sorrow on the ice, every other part of his life got it in spades. 

Jack was always there though, every step of the way and probably why he didn’t fuck up his stats. They make it work, a long distance thing while he’s in Pittsburgh and Jack’s out in fucking Dallas. Okay so he likes Dallas; the guys that play there, they’re decent and took Jack in with open arms, they never make him feel like an outcast, he saw it on Jack’s face the first time he came out to visit; but it was still a shitty situation for their relationship. 

They are trying hard though, that’s gotta count for something.

He messages Jack after he's out of his skates and pads, avoids the media in the tussle of players despite how much he should be out there doing his job and following up with some interviews. 

He sends off a quick,  _ my first Gordie and you didn’t text me yet you jackass. _ message to his boyfriend and can already picture Jack’s face when he picks up his phone to read it, which makes the whole thing completely worth it.

There’s no time to check back until he’s out of the arena and the reply is just as he figured it would be.

_ You knocked Louis’ lights out with one punch, that Gordie Howe was served to you on a silver platter. _

Brock gives his phone a stupidly soft look, his fondness for Jack practically bleeds out. He promptly texts back.

_ And you haven’t called me yet. _

_ Because you’re about to get drunk and even if you didn’t want to get drunk the guys are going to drag your sorry ass out to do it. _ Jack tells him with that smug look that’s not there but is. _ Call me when you get home, unless you’re shitfaced, then call me in the morning. _

_ Excuse me, I have a fucking amazing ass.  _ Brock immediately types back before thinking while his smile shifts to a grin. He knows Jack expects sass back, it wasn’t them if there wasn’t.  _ A Gordie fucking Howe! Tomorrow I’ll get you a hat trick, promise. _

He watches Jack typing but then it stops a moment, just as a car honks his way and he looks up to see Barnes gesturing to him to hurry the hell up. A sudden idea crosses his mind and he hurries to add it before Jack can finish off whatever he wants to say.

_ Phone sex after. I’m calling in a favor. _

_ I don’t owe you any favors, your last favor was turned in when you wanted Taco Bell before your physical. Also congrats on your Gordie Howe. Text me or call me when you’re home. _

So Brock isn’t owed anything, Jack didn’t exactly say no though.

He heads out for a few drinks with some of the guys, mainly because it’s tradition and hockey’s built on that alone. He also wants to unwind with them and he really does need a couple of beers to settle down with. It’s good, better than he thought it would be, he keeps running through his head if he should feel bad or guilty that Jack isn’t there next to him, one arm draped at his shoulder or hovering close against the back of the booth. Now Bucky sits in his place, his arm perched behind him casually and it’s comfortable but never exactly fine. He doesn’t feel bad though, knows Jack doesn’t want him to. He knows he’s got to keep a mindful balance and not let negativity or their separation distract him, he’s the captain and it’s not fair to his teammates. And Jack, Jack doesn’t seem to be worried about his new home. 

Brock’s unsure of how he’s managed it, but starting anew wasn’t as bad as either of them thought and like he knows already, the team’s welcomed him graciously. It still sucks that Jack isn't _here_, definitely, but he's still..Jack, his Jackie, who posts stupid memes on a private social account that only a handful of people know about. Who the team photographer snaps plane pictures of when Dallas is traveling to away games reading the next best detective or mystery novel; it’s always something that makes Brock’s heart swell because it’s Jack’s unspoken way of telling him he’s thinking about him. It’s Brock that gets him those books, no matter how well off Jack is, Brock insists only he’s allowed to buy them.  _ It’s their thing, even from afar. _ Brock still gets morning calls, or breakfasts over Skype and fond, sarcastic replies to his texts, still gets Jack's voice pressed soft and low against his ear before he falls asleep. And no matter how vicious and defensive he can be on the ice with his team, only Jack can make him feel safe and warm despite it all.

Jack’s all the credit that’s made dealing with his trade out easy, made him stop being overly stressed and anxious, driving the rookies crazy with stupid barks of orders that never made sense. He’s glad that Jack is so endlessly amazing and calm and comfortable, glad he knows now that it doesn’t matter the distance, the happiness that he gives him is much too strong to cripple him with the alternative.

They’re at a bar that isn't too packed and Brock doesn't go too hard; if he's going to drink in excess he's much more the kind of person to do it after a loss than a win, never mind a win where he completed all three objectives for a Gordie Howe. The high of that is enough on its own considering it’s early in the season and he wants to rack them up like Tocchet used to back in the day and there just might be a slight need to one up Chara on his current count, then maybe Jack will stop talking Polish with the guy whenever they’re in town together. If he’s a little jealous of their friendship, no one has to know. Either way, he’s not here to ingest too much alcohol followed by the subsequent dumb decisions and hangovers. Jack was usually the responsible one and since he wasn’t around to take him back to his place, he wasn’t going to let anyone else take that job over. Besides which, he’s still expected to call and check in, Jack has to do the same when he’s out after a game, they still watch each other’s backs no matter what and this night isn’t any different. 

He makes it home sometime after one in the morning, struggling and fumbling for his phone out of his pocket as soon as his bedroom door is closed behind him and hitting call.

Jack's an hour behind him, but he's almost always asleep before midnight, though Brock knows he'll answer anyway. He does, mumbling a sleep-rough,  _ Hey _ that makes Brock smile, flushed a little with alcohol and giddiness, because Jack always waits up for him.

“Hey.” Brock says breathlessly. “Y’know, I got a real Gordie Howe, Jackie. Can ya believe it? Already! Bad conduct for captains m’sure, but I’m gettin’ ‘em!” 

"I know, Brock." Jack says fondly. "I already said congratulations."

Brock grins, dropping down onto his bed and kicking his shoes off. He unbuttons his jeans for good measure and there’s a sigh of relief. "No. You typed it in yer phone. Ya didn't say it verbally.”

"Oh yeah?" Jack retorts, and he sounds like he’s smiling. “Still harboring sound logic even after getting wasted, amazing.”

“Fuck off, I ain’t wasted.” Brock should be offended. “I only drank three beers tonight, asshole. An’ are ya still usin’ that old landline phone? Yer comin’ out all weird again like last time, Jackie. You were jus textin’ with the cell, I told ya to retire that piece of garbage, fuckin’ hipster!”

Jack groaned. “I’m not a hipster, I just like certain stuff from the past. Did you have fun?"

"Yeah, maybe." Brock relents, giving up on crapping on his dumb telephone, for now. "Was alright considerin’ you ain’t with us no more. You should come ‘ere, fer the summer.” 

"You don’t wanna come see Dallas? Meet the guys?" Jack asks.

Brock hums. "Dunno. Gonna go to New York with ya to see yer family like usual, but Pittsburgh’s been home fer damn too long, you should come back ‘ere, everyone still misses ya.” 

“I miss them too.” Jack says, a little to gently. “I miss you the most though. We’ll figure something out.” 

“Good.” Brock says, feeling delighted, if not a little loopy. He smiles up at the ceiling and runs his hand casually over his stomach. "Hey, I wish you were ‘ere right now. I wanna make out with you, like we always did when we got home, against the wall by the front door.” 

"I wish we could too." Jack tells him, letting out a breath in Brock ear.

“This bed is still so nice, glad ya talked me into gettin’ the more expensive one. Like I’m sleepin’ on a cloud, Jackie. Wish you were layin’ ‘ere beside me though, miss all the space you took up.”

"Brock.." says Jack quietly.

"Yeah, well.." He sighs, because whining won’t do either of them any good. He turns to the next best thing, tugging his shirt up a little further. "Actually ya wouldn't be because it’d be me on the bed then you'd be on top of me, I mean of course unless I was in the mood to climb onto your lap and you can hold my hips. But jus this moment right now, you’d be on top and we’d be makin’ out.” 

That makes Jack laugh, it’s one of his favorite sounds. "Yeah, you want that?"

"Yeah, ‘course I want that." Brock pouts, he can’t help it. "Want ya to fuck me too."

Jack sounds like he’s thinking about it, makes a thoughtful hum and Brock hears the sound of his blanket moving aside and then a rustle on his end of the line. "How?"

"Hard." Brock says immediately, sliding his hand into his jeans, just gently teasing, cupping his cock through his boxers. It makes him shiver. "Really hard. You’d get angry about me gettin’ into another fight while you were on the bench ‘cause I know you hate when I do shit like that even if it was a knock out. Yer always so damn protective of me, mouth on me while ya get me ready. You still got the beard?"

"Yeah." Jack tells him, laughing a little. "Though I thought about getting rid of it for the new season, but it reminds me of you."

Brock whimpers to that admission. "Fuck it better. Been enough nights you’ve left beard burn on my thighs before a game and I felt it all day. You could mark me up too around there.” 

"Yeah?" Jack says, his voice getting hoarse. "Want me to hold you down?"

"_Yes_." Brock whines out, sticking his hand into his boxers without much finesse, but God he's already so fucking hard, his cock leaking in anticipation. "Wanna feel ya everywhere. Wish you could do it now so I could get the sting on my wrists next time I jerk off. I always get so full when yer in me, leave me so sore and achin’ after.”

"I'll do it when I'm there, just a couple days shy of two weeks."Jack promises. Brock hears his breath hitch, and maybe, he has to strain a little to hear, the slide of skin on skin. He groans. "Give you something to last."

"Mmm." Brock murmurs. He closes his eyes and pictures Jack jerking himself off in bed, half naked with all his hair mussed up. He  _ wants _ him so badly, always aches, like this constant current of adrenaline under his skin. It doesn't really make it harder, doing this all without him, because Jack is still  _ his _ and it's great and that's the most important thing, but it definitely surges up when he's getting off without Jack actually here, when it's dark and quiet and he wants Jack in his space the most. With his eyes shut he can imagine that in this moment, imagine the sheets are warm from Jack's body, imagine the fingers wrapped around his cock are Jack's, not his own. Imagine that Jack's just about to lean in and kiss him, pull all the air from his lungs. "Fuck, Jack. Want everythin’, the beard burn, the hickies, the bruises and all the soreness rolled into it."

Jack huffs a strained laugh. "How are you going to explain that in the locker room?"

"Don't care.” Brock groans. "I'll think of somethin’. Jack, are ya- "

"Yeah." He grits out. “I am, you know I am. Of course- “ 

"M’so hard." Brock whines out, desperate and breathless. He squeezes his dick and presses his thumb under the head like Jack does for him, fucking up with his hips, working his hand fast, barely any rhythm but so good. He thinks about grabbing the lube out of the side table and fingering himself, but he's too close, too clumsy and doesn’t want to disrupt the perfect balance of his hand, his bed and Jack in his ear touching himself. "So fuckin’ hard, Jack. God yer drivin’ me crazy not bein’ here, I want you fuckin’ me- ”

"_Brock_ \- " says Jack desperately.

"Yeah, sweetheart." Brock encourages with a moan. "C'mon, let it out, lemmie hear ya cum, Jackie, _please_."

Jack groans, low and cracked, a quiet rush of wonderful relief in Brock’s ear, and that's all it takes for him to lose it too, cumming hard all over his hand and wringing it all out ruthlessly.

When he blinks back to reality he's breathing hard, hot and damp but sated, tinged at the edges with the promise of Jack's hands on him soon, Jack taking him apart and putting him back together, Jack's skin and his mouth and his everything here on Brock, in Brock’s bed. The same bed Jack’s been sleeping in since they’ve been together despite owning his own house.

"Oh, fuck." He mumbles absently. "Jack, still there? Ya good?"

"Yeah Brock, I’m good." Jack replies with a chuckle, his breathing slowing out. “Really good actually.” 

"Good," Brock says, because his brain isn’t completely up and running yet. "Me too. Well, fer now."

Jack snorts. "You should go to sleep, back to back games remember?"

"Yeah." He agrees, but not without a sigh. "Hey, thanks. I needed that, I just..didn’t know how much. And that was..real fuckin’ amazin’ even if it was quick and I..I really miss the hell outta ya.” 

"Yeah Brock, I miss the hell out of you too." Jack says back, warm and fond. "Hey?"

"Hmm?" Brock yawns, rooting around for a dirty t-shirt on the floor.

"Congratulations." Jack says again. "You were perfect out there, you’ll beat Zdeno in no time and reign supreme over him in your little jealousy thing."

"I’m not- “ He sighs. Even without seeing his face, he knows Jack is giving him that _look_, the one where everyone knows Brock’s a fucking liar and he should know better. “Yeah alright, alright. He jus, gets on my nerves when yer talkin’ to each other and I can’t follow.”

“He doesn’t do it on purpose, it’s just comfortable, a change of pace for him and good practise.” 

“Yeah I know.” Brock shrugs when he doesn’t have anything better to say and he can hear Jack chuckle.

“Go to sleep, getting too possessive about it.”

"No I ain’t. Maybe. But yeah, okay. I do need sleep." Brock agrees. "I love you, asshole."

"I love you too, I miss you a lot..well more than a lot really." Jack says, lingering a beat before the call comes to an end.

Brock stares at his phone for a long moment before he puts it on his table and pulls the blanket over himself, he’ll deal with a better clean up tomorrow. Right now, he’s still riding on his high and he curls up on side, rubbing his face against the pillow. He’s asleep before he knows it, smiling the whole time.


End file.
